


Unspoken Words

by pherryt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Therapy, Bunker Fic, Confessions, Coping Mechanisms, Eavesdropping, Healing, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Portals, Talking, Tea, envy - Freeform, expecatations, inspired by a MASH episode, low self worth, mute character, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21887947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: The Winchesters, Castiel and Rowena all have baggage - people recently lost to them and traumas endured - but it takes the sudden appearance of a strange girl in their bunker to finally get them talking.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel
Comments: 26
Kudos: 36





	1. Prologue (Dean)

**Author's Note:**

> So....I've been writing this since season 13. I've written longer in shorter timespans but this, for some reason, caused me struggle. And of course, over a year after i last touched it, when i _finally_ asked for help (Thank you, again, fpwoper for the read through and beta!!) , my muse returned. I opened it to reread and send notes to fpwoper about it and somehow went from 11k to almost 18k before i was ready to actually send it along.
> 
> Format is somewhat inspired by a really awesome MASH episode called "Point of View" where a temporarily mute soldier becomes everyone's ear and helps them figure a few things out. the difference here, is, this is not told told from the mute characters POV.

Sam and Dean looked up in surprise and alarm at the whirling mist coalescing inside the bunkers’ library. For a second, even the two seasoned hunters found they couldn’t react to the strange sight before them.

Then years long honed instincts kicked in and they both leapt to their feet.

Dean went for the gun strapped under the table; he’d made sure there were plenty of weapons hidden around the bunker, especially after all the break ins they’d had over the last year – _impervious to break ins my ass!_

Sam went for the not so decorative sword on the wall and the brothers turned to face the hole in reality that had finished forming.

They stood, waiting, as they both tried to peer through the portal to – _wherever_ – without getting too close, but they saw nothing but darkness.

Dean’s nerves jittered as they waited, Sam edging his way closer. Dean shot him a disapproving look and it was at that moment that things happened.

A nearly naked woman flew out of the portal towards them, slamming to the floor when something hooked around her ankle. Dean blinked, his gun wavering from the intruder as his instincts bade him to shoot whatever it was that was now dragging her back…

She was beaten and bloody and she scrabbled at the floor, trying to halt her return to the portal. Heaving panicking breaths and whimpers, she left a bloody smear with each inch she was dragged backwards.

Dean’s gun steadied as he aimed and fired, feeling immense satisfaction as the _thing_ that had hold of her let go. The tentacle snapped back with a screech, making it back inside the portal before it closed. Dean felt a bite of disappointment that it hadn’t been a titch slower so it could have been hurt by the closing of the portal.

But then that would have left a twitching tentacle on the floor of the bunker, probably oozing something horrifically gross so, maybe it was for the better that it hadn’t.

There was a deafening silence after it was gone, broken only by the quiet sobbing of the woman. A different set of instincts kicked in and Dean hurriedly pushed his flannel back to tuck the gun away and out of sight - but well within reach should it turn out that he’d made the wrong call – and he nodded at Sam.

Sam nodded back and ran out of the room as Dean slowly approached the woman. She looked more like a young girl than he’d first realized and his protective instincts kicked up another notch.

“Hey… hey, it’s all right. You’re safe now,” He said as soothingly as he could.

She drew away with a flinch and a shudder, curling up into a ball against one of the many bookcases in the room. She’d found one of the freestanding ones to huddle up against and Dean hoped she didn’t jerk violently into it, though he didn’t think she was strong enough to topple it over. It was a short, stout and very solid bookcase and not one of those flimsy, cheap WalMart style of bookcases that the brothers found in most houses these days.

Usually in the most painful ways, too.

She stared at him, her eyes wide and wet with fear and pain. Dean continued to make soothing sounds at her, fighting the instinct to take her in his arms and comfort her. It was a strong instinct, but he knew better than that.

Though he knew well it was Sam, Dean couldn’t help but turn at the sound of footsteps in the hall only to see his brother entering the library, a lump of cloth in his hands.

“It might be a little big, but I found you a robe, if you’d like to cover up? It’s soft,” Sam said gently, easing towards the woman.

She bit her lip. The sobs had petered out, but her brown eyes were still wide as they flicked between the brothers. Shakily, but silently, she slowly nodded.

Gently, Sam leaned forward, using every inch of his tall frame to hand her the robe without moving a single step closer.

It was the right move. With a wary look, her trembling hand reached for the robe, grasped the edges and snapped back, clutching it to her chest. Sam let go of it quickly, not contesting her grab, and then backed away. He gripped Dean’s shoulder and dragged him back, Dean letting him do it.

A few moments later had her tightly wrapped in the robe and curled up in a chair at the library table, as far from the brothers as possible. Dean and Sam were careful not to encroach on her space, but Sam talked to her in a quiet, steady voice. Sam was more than capable of handling things, leaving Dean with the confidence to disappear for a few moments.

Still, he tried not to take too long. He returned twice: first with their first aid kit, giving Sam a firm look, and the second time after a few extra minutes so he could bring with him a mug of tea and some toast.

“Here, we don’t know what you’ve been through,” Dean said. “But I’m sure you need something, and I wasn’t sure what you’d be up for. Figured simple would be better. And I can easily heat up some soup, too – canned only, I’m afraid, but…” he trailed off, feeling oddly out of his depth.

“So, my name’s Sam, and this is my brother Dean. What’s your name?” Sam asked, opening the first aid kit and giving it a clinical look over before looking back up at the silent woman.

She blinked at them owlishly. Some of her fear had faded but she was still wary. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, an attempt to talk made but her mouth moved around silent syllables. Her brow crinkled as no sound came and her hand reached for her throat.

“Can you talk?” Dean asked.

She blinked again, tears filling her eyes. She looked down, shrugging listlessly. They could see her fingers tightening around the mug he’d slid across the table to her, her knuckles turning white.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean assured her quickly. “Sam an’ me, we’re hunters. We’ve seen some uh... some pretty bad stuff in our time. Been up against things most people don’t even believe in. We’ve seen stuff that would have us committed as crazies if we admitted to it… and… we’ve had our share of trauma.” Dean looked down for a second and back up again. “Not that we’re saying we know what you’ve been through or who had it worse but… we understand if you’re not up to talking yet.”

“Yeah, word is, Dean here went mute for a few years when we were kids after some bad shit happened,” Sam continued. Dean gave Sam a sharp look and let out a sigh. He’d forgotten that Sam had found out about that. It had been a long time ago when that came to light on a case, something Sam had been too young to remember at the time. “Give it time. Heal up, and maybe your voice’ll come back. Speaking of healing, though…”

Sam looked uncertainly at Dean and then at the woman.

Dean echoed the look. “Look, we saw that you were injured when you… arrived here. And nothing looked life threatening from what we saw, but you definitely want to treat those wounds, make sure they don’t get infected.” He nodded at the first aid kit. “We got the supplies. You gotta decide how you want to apply them.”

She shrank back and he sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“I’ll call Cas, see if he’s anywhere nearby,” Dean murmured. “Maybe he can help her better than we can.”

“You could be right. I’ll stay here and—" Sam cut off as a shrill creak floated through to the library.

Dean grinned. “Well, speak of the devil.” He stood up and quickly left the room, bounding up the stairs to meet Cas just as he was finishing closing the door behind…

“ _Rowena?_ What the hell are you doing here?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

“Why, hullo to you too, Dean. It’s nice to see you again, dear,” she grinned, leaning up and patting his cheek.

He pulled away with a grunt and looked at Cas disapprovingly. “Rowena? Really, Cas? You’re teaming up with _Rowena_ now?”

“Actually, her presence here at the same moment as myself is mere coincidence,” Cas said blandly. “I found her already waiting outside.”

“Dammit,” Dean muttered. Rowena had already swept past him and daintily made her way down the stairs in that regal manner of hers. “That’s just what we need.”

Rowena stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking around the map room and peering through the door to the kitchen as she removed her coat and draped it over a chair. “Where’s Sam? Don’t tell me he finally ran away, did he?”

“Sam’s fine,” Dean growled, stomping his way down the metal stairs, Cas right behind him. “What are you doing here, Rowena?”

“What, I can’t come and visit for old times sake?” Rowena turned to give them her most innocent looking her face.

Dean didn’t believe it for a second. “You know I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, right?”

“Of course, dearie. You’re very wise for such a young age.” She smiled sweetly and Dean felt his gut churning. “Now, how about you run and put the kettle on for some tea?”

Dean was torn. He wanted to tell her to make the tea herself, but he also didn’t want her in _his_ kitchen, mucking with his things. But at the same time, he wanted to return to the library and make sure nothing had imploded while he was gone. Nor could he leave Cas to deal with her, since Dean kinda needed to talk to him about helping the stranger in their midst.

She rolled her eyes while he wavered and took the dilemma away completely. “Fine,” she sighed. “I can wait for you to finish whatever wee thing you’ve deemed so important it can’t wait.”

Dean glared at her but swept past her thankfully as she made herself comfortable in one of the map table chairs. “Cas, come with me?”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas answered without hesitation.

Behind them, Rowena snorted but Dean ignored her.

Ignoring a witch probably wasn’t healthy, and Rowena doubly so, but he was so done with her right now.

He led the way to the doorway between the library and the map room and halted there so he could see both scenes at once. Lowering his voice, knowing that Cas’s superior angel hearing would pick up his words with no problem, Dean spoke.

“We’ve got a small situation on our hands. We have ‘a guest’ who’s come here unexpectedly and she’s hurt and terrified. I don’t think Sam or I can get close to her the way we need to so we can help her. We were kinda hoping you could… y’know, _poof_ her injuries away? You still got enough juice for that?”

“As long as the extent of the injuries are not severe, yes, I should still be able to help,” Cas agreed easily.

Dean let out a breath of relief. “That’s good. You’d tell me if you were running low, right?”

Cas looked away guilty then squared his shoulders and met Dean’s eyes. “I have learned my lesson, Dean. Yes, I will.”

“Good. That’s good. We’re making progress,” Dean said with a grin. He slapped Cas on his shoulder and then left it there, steadying himself. “Okay so… the tricky part is going to be getting close enough to help her. I’m not sure anything we do won’t just frighten her more. She’s… not talking…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cas answered seriously. He stepped away from Dean’s hand, and Dean let it drop, instantly noticing the lack of contact with a desperate longing he locked down as quick as he could. Ever since he learned that Angels could hear and hone in on longing as _well_ as prayer, Dean had tried to be extra careful not to burden Cas with unwanted feelings.

No matter how much he wished otherwise.

He turned and leaned on the doorframe, watching Cas carefully approach the woman. Dean couldn’t hear Cas’s words from here, but he decided not to try and get in any closer. He didn’t want her to feel cornered and even more wary or scared – or both. Scared things had a habit of reacting badly, evil or not. Years of being a hunter had taught him that.

As he waited, he heard Rowena’s chair scrape and he closed his eyes. Wonderful…

She stepped up beside Dean, a physical presence he could feel despite the fact that he wasn’t even looking at her.

Then she froze, and he looked down at her frowning – he was always startled by their height difference. She was so much larger than life, sometimes, that when he wasn’t looking at her directly, it felt as if she was at least a foot taller than she actually was.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He demanded cautiously, noticing how much paler than normal she’d gone and unable to stop the stab of concern.

She collected herself, straightening and raising her chin before flashing him a smile. “Why, nothing at all, my wee Winchester.”

Rowena patted his cheek for the second time that day and he jerked back, reflexively, but he still felt the telltale tremor in her fingers. Something about their uninvited guest had unnerved her. She brushed past him and he had to resist the urge to grab her arm and yank her back.

He glanced over at the still unknown, skittish woman. He had a feeling a display such as that would only scare her further. _She_ didn’t know what Rowena was after all. All she would see was the imbalance of a big man like him hurting a tiny thing like Rowena, and then they’d lose any sort of progress they might have made in the very short time she’d been there.

Still, Dean needed to know. He placed a hand on Rowena’s arm and said lowly, “Rowena, stop. Tell me the truth. Do you know her?”

She paused and closed her eyes before turning to face him. Her body screamed defiance but there was something lost and shaken in her eyes. It made Dean rock back a step, his hand dropping from her arm.

“No, Dean. I can honestly say I don’t but... truthfully,” Rowena took in a fortifying breath. “She reminds me of someone... from a long time ago. It’s a little like seeing a ghost, I suppose. I’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

Leaving Dean to mull over the ambiguity of that, Rowena joined Sam at the table, all three of them turning to watch Cas talking to the young woman. She stared up at him mistrustfully but she was nodding her head slowly.

Cas stretched out his arm and placed two fingers on her forehead – a move Dean was all too familiar with after 9 years – and an instant later, drew back. The woman had closed her eyes at the touch and was now blinking back up at the angel in confusion.

“Her name is May,” Cas called out, just loud enough to be heard by all and still not startle the woman – _May,_ Dean corrected himself.

“Welcome to the bunker, May,” Sam said, smiling gently. Dean almost rolled his eyes, realizing that his brother had just gotten himself a new pet project, but he stopped himself. This was what they did. They helped people. They rarely stuck around for the aftermath, though, so Dean wasn’t sure what would happen next.

He caught Sam’s eye.

 _Now what?_ He mouthed.

Sam shrugged, and jerked his head at May while holding Dean’s gaze.

Clearing his throat, Dean said, “Yeah, uh, mi casa es su casa, or however that goes.”

Cas looked at him approvingly as Sam beamed at him.

Rowena sighed. “Now, I do believe I was promised a cup of tea? I’m sure all you fine lads can fill me in on our mystery guest once we have a nice hot cup to ease our throats.”


	2. Chapter 1 - Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> instead of chapter titles this time around, i'm just going to label each chapter with the character whose POV it is

May was shown a room not far from the library she’d appeared in. She’d skittishly followed Dean down the hall as he pointed out the kitchen, the way out, the bathroom and – if she needed it – where to find him, Sam or Cas.

“Not that Cas is around all that much. And, I mean, he’s an angel, so, guy doesn’t even need to sleep. But y’know, he’s… he’s family so, figured he should have a place of his own. That way he always knows he’s welcome here. That we want him here.” Dean paused in front of one of the doors. “Not that I think he realizes this.”

Shaking his head, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. Stepping inside, he flicked on the light switch and looked around. “So, okay, I guess I need to get you some sheets and stuff – gets pretty cold in here sometimes, but, y’know,” he shrugged. “It’s a pre-war bunker built right into the ground. Guess it was bound to.”

May watched his every move as he talked.

It was a little unnerving, her unwavering gaze and compete silence, but Dean really couldn’t blame her. He stopped talking and stared back at her in concern before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Look, I’m sorry. If I’m making you uncomfortable… I’m sorry…”

Her eyes flicked to the doorway and back. Dean could see what she was thinking and honestly, once more, Dean found he couldn’t blame her. He’d  _ been  _ there and he was better prepared to keep himself safe. She looked like she couldn’t go toe to toe with a  _ kitten,  _ and there was only one way out. If she went in there, it could become a cage.

She didn’t know that nobody here held any ill intentions toward her. It didn’t matter. Whatever she’d been through, it had obviously been a lot. His thought was proved not even an instant later as she drew in a ragged breath and backed away from the door a single step, then another, collapsing against the wall and hugging herself.

Within seconds, he knelt by her, his hands hovering by her shoulders, concern and uncertainty marking his every movement but being very careful  _ not  _ to touch her.

“Shhh… it’s okay. I get it. We’ve all of us here been trapped before. You don’t gotta go in there if you don’t want to. You can stay in the library if you’d rather, or the map room,” Dean assured her softly. “Those all have multiple exits, so you can’t be cornered, I promise.”

Tears rolled down her face, a sob breaking free from her throat. She shoved her fist against her mouth to hold more back, but the sobs were too great and Dean felt absolutely helpless. He slid to the ground beside her, feeling more than a bit wobbly himself in the face of her fear.

How many times had he been in a position where he was powerless? Cornered? Broken. How many times had he been at someone else’s mercy – his dad, a monster, Alistair, even Cas. It wasn’t always the bad guys that hurt him. Sometimes it had been the good guys too.

And that, that always hurt worst.

Even if they hadn’t meant for it to happen, the fact  _ was _ that it  _ had _ , and Dean… Dean had to deal with the aftermath of that.

Of course, in true Dean fashion, that meant a whole lot of repressing and just not talking about it.

But he was so tired of carrying that shit around. He rubbed a hand over his face. May continued to cry beside him. Dropping his head back against the wall, Dean sighed and waited.

Honestly, what else could he do?

Dean felt absolutely helpless, knowing she felt even worse than that.

An hour later, after May had calmed down, Dean had led the way back to the library and deposited her there, much to Sam and Cas’s surprise. He gave them a glare and a headshake and they settled back in.

“I’m gonna make us all some food,” Dean said, knocking on the table idly as he spoke.

“That sounds like a grand plan,” Rowena said, smiling. “I’m famished.”

“Would you like any help, Dean?” Cas asked, starting to rise.

Dean shook his head. Honestly, as much as he loved Cas’s company, he just needed a few moments alone right now to think. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Cas.”

He retreated from the library and quickly set to work, puttering about the bunker’s kitchen as he considered their uninvited guest. There was obviously trauma there. A blind man could see it even without the incident in the hall. What had Dean all twisted up was what to  _ do  _ about it.

Dean continued to work as he thought, setting a pan on the live burner and pulling out the beef patties he’d made earlier that day, before it had been interrupted so suddenly.

Neither he nor Sam were qualified in any way to help others face their demons (and they’d kinda chased away the one person who might have been  _ perfect _ for that anyway). Hell, he and Sam – and Cas too, for that matter – were the poster boys for how  _ not  _ to deal with their issues.

God –  _ or Chuck _ , Dean snorted inwardly – knew that Dean went to extremes. Drinking and avoiding his problems were not healthy coping mechanisms, he was sure. Burying themselves in work as all three of them were guilty of probably wasn’t either.

Hell, Rowena never said a word – at least not to Dean, though he had some vague memories of… he shook his head. He couldn’t quite remember, but it felt important. Whatever it was, his distrust of Rowena had taken a blow somewhere along the line.

Not that that meant he was willing to take her word on things, it wasn’t all kittens and rainbows, even if his attitude toward her had softened some.

Regardless, he could see the haunted look in her eyes, all too familiar. He’d seen that look on Sam, Cas, other hunters…

In the damn mirror…

She kept her silence, too proud, perhaps to turn to others for help – though maybe, Dean thought, she was softening too? In any case, while she put on a brave face, Dean had a feeling she was perhaps just as damaged as the rest of them.

Only while they became hunters to help others, she turned to the accumulation of power to help herself.

Look how well _ that _ kept turning out.

He sighed as he flipped the burger patties in the pan. Cooking, cleaning, hunting - doing  _ something  _ useful usually helped in some ways. But it wasn’t enough. He knew he needed to talk to someone. Dean  _ knew _ it, even if he didn’t like it.

Wincing inwardly, he reached for the blend of garlic and other spices he’d perfected for his burgers.

Right. Talk.

Like every time he’d tried, every damn time he’d find the courage to plunge ahead - breaking the façade he’d spent years building because of dad – he wasn’t shut down like a whiny fucking baby.

Nobody wanted to deal with Dean’s shit. They wanted him to deal with theirs. To be their rock. Well, who the fuck was  _ his  _ rock?

In a way, Cas was, even if the angel didn’t know it. But even then, Dean didn’t allow himself the luxury of burdening Cas with his shit.

His mouth twitched down into a frown.

He couldn’t talk because no one would listen and May just couldn’t talk!

Maybe… maybe that’s what he could do?

Maybe if he could talk with her, he could show her it was okay? Let her know her pain and shit was valid and that he’d listen? It had to help some, right?

With a determined nod, Dean contented himself with finishing his current task as he set up a plan for how to approach her.


	3. Chapter 2 - Sam

Sam placed another book on the already precarious stack in his arms and then tracked back over to the main room of the library. A book wobbled and he hurried to reach the table before it fell. He dropped the stack on the table, the books slamming down quite a bit louder than he expected.

Which normally wouldn’t be a problem, except for their overly skittish guest who’d been ghosting about the place.

Dean had prepared a room for her but she wasn’t exactly using it. Instead, she’d holed up in the library, which had multiple exits. It made sense and Sam could certainly empathize.

Currently, s he’d been sitting at the far corner of the table from where he was and her flinch caught his attention as soon as it occurred. He grimaced apologetically, feeling guilty and stupid.

He should have known, should have been more careful.

“Sorry, they’re a bit heavier than I…” he cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, I was thinking…” Sam started sorting the books, not looking directly at her. She was already skittish and he didn’t want to scare her off.

“Whatever you’ve gone through, well, we obviously don’t know but, if there’s one thing I  _ do  _ know –“ he held up a book, “It’s that learning about the things that can hurt you and finding out how to hurt them back? Makes me feel a hell of a lot better and a lot safer. Being able to take that knowledge and turn around to help others… it’s a great feeling. Not saying it’ll cure you, or that we have information on whatever the things that had you were, but… it’s a start, if you want?”

Sam winced internally but left a calm, encouraging expression on his face. God, that was muddled up so bad he was surprised he wasn’t speaking backwards.  _ Or _ in tongues.

She bit her lip as she stared at the stack of books and then at him, hesitancy in her demeanor before she wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t nod or shake her head or give any indication in any direction whatsoever. Crap.

Blowing out a breath, Sam sat down at the other end of the table, stretching his long legs underneath.

“Okay, let me try again. Me and my brother, we’ve been hunters since we were kids. Raised in it by our dad after a demon killed our mom. Now, it was never what I wanted to be, but at least what I do? It helps people. I think our family’s screwed to hell and back –“ Sam barked a bitter laugh. “Actually, we’ve  _ both _ been to hell and back, sometimes more than once, literally. And its… it’s damaged us. I won’t lie. Dean carries his guilt like a festering boil, always refusing to talk about it, but letting it color his every action, always pretending nothing’s wrong, and I - I went catatonic for a time. Even Cas, he… well.”

To be honest, Sam didn’t actually want to think about any of that, but at the same time, he definitely had her attention now. She stared at him with wide eyes and was she, yes, she was leaning forward slightly, obviously listening, waiting for more.

Maybe he could stomach talking about at least a little bit of his issues if it helped her come to terms with hers?

“Y’know, I resented Dean for a while. Dad seemed to always trust him more than me, and the things I wanted never seemed to matter half as much.” Sam sighed, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “You’re going to laugh, but when I ran away from home, I ran away to college. Most kids run away to the circus or some shit, but me? I ran away to  _ college. _ ”

May smiled and Sam felt proud of himself for getting that response. “And then Dean ruined that for me. At least, that’s how it felt at the time. But if I’m honest with myself, he’s not to blame for what happened after.”

He got quiet, remembering Jess, then later, Lucifer. How Lucifer had bragged about Sam being surrounded by his demons  _ everywhere  _ he’d gone. How Jess’s death had just been a matter of time. It had taken him years to come to grips with that fact, but he’d never absolved himself of the guilt that came after.

Jess would still be alive if he hadn’t fallen in love with her.

“Whether Dean had come by that night for my help or not, whether I took that road trip to find dad or I didn’t, my life at college was already over. I just didn’t know it. Dean and I, hell, our entire family, have had the supernatural world meddling in our lives since before we were even born. We couldn’t stop that, but what we did do?”

Sam shoved a book down the table, watching it slide down the length of it. May flinched again before gingerly reaching out to take the book into her hands.

“We became hunters. We learned about our Legacy and then we told them to shove it up their asses, as Dean would say. We live our own lives, on  _ our _ terms. And we help people doing it. They’re not perfect lives. God and everyone knows we make mistakes. Dean and I, Cas too, we’ve all done things we regret. But at the end of the day, we do good. And this is how we do it.” Sam tapped the stack of books. “By pushing back at the monsters that keep trying to tear our family apart. The ones that sent us down this path, they’re gone now, but it isn’t over. There are still monsters out there hurting other people. We can stop that, so that’s what we do.”

Sam nodded at May and the book in her hands. “Start with that. That’s the basics and while you read that, I’m gonna look into portals – and the wards around the bunker.”

He didn’t like how often this supposedly impenetrable bunker kept getting compromised. Maybe the warding was too old? Could warding expire? Still, it was supposedly capable of repelling all supernatural creatures, and besides that, had a lock that was impossible to pick (without a warded key, the place bunker was supposed to go into lockdown).

And the number of times it had been invaded – Scully, Ketch, Amara, the British Men of Letters, the Stynes, Lucifer, even  _ God _ – true, there were extenuating circumstances each time, and maybe fucking with the warding to make exceptions for Cas had left it weaker or something but still…

What good was warding if it didn’t keep out the unfriendlies?

They read in companionable silence for a little while, as Sam pondered these things, taking notes. He felt proud of himself every minute that May stayed glued to the table, her eyes scanning the pages and her fingers flipping through them.

Sam was halfway through the first book when he looked down at his notebook and shook his head ruefully. He stood and grabbed another, sliding it and a pen across the table to her. Her face lit up at the sight of it and she didn’t hesitate to use it to ask questions either.

Man, he was an idiot. He should have gotten her the notebook earlier.

After the first round of questions, asking Sam where they were and what the date was, her eyes glazing over on the second answer, they drifted back to their books where Sam attempted to get lost in the research.

This was far from the first time he’d read these books. He’d already pulled every book on portals he could find in the bunker – though with the shit organization Dean and him and found here, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were more, somewhere – while doing research to find ways to bring Mom and Jack home from the Apocalypse World.

The research had been, so far, fruitless, and these particular books had been set aside as useless. But now he was looking for how to prevent portals, or identify them, rather than make them, so he was scouring them once more in case he’d missed something the first time.

Tapping on the table made him shake himself out of his preoccupied daze, finding that he was looking down at his book but not seeing a damn word. Sam  looked up from his current book .

May held up the notebook, her tome had been closed and a piece of paper slipped inside to mark her place. Apparently, she wanted a break. Sam squinted at the words.

“Do you still resent your brother?” He read aloud, rocking back into his chair, surprised by the question. Did he? He didn’t think so. They had the same lives, what could Sam possibly resent Dean for? It was utterly ridiculous and he opened his mouth say as much but then,

Then he didn’t, as other words flew from between his lips instead.

“Yes.” Sam blinked. What the hell? “I have no idea why I said that. I made peace with this life of ours a long time ago. And I already know it’s not Dean’s fault that I’m here.”

_ There must be something else? _

Shaking his head. “I don’t… well, okay. I guess, he still treats me like a kid sometimes. Every time I think we’ve moved past it, he’s making decisions for me and telling me what to do. Or he doesn’t trust my judgement. Like I’m not just as experienced a hunter as he is. I’m the better hunter, too. Everyone says so.”

She raised her eyebrow at him.  _ How often is sometimes? Are you holding onto things from the past and letting them color your more recent memories? People grow up and change. You, Dean. _

“Well of course people grow up, I’m not stupid,” Sam bit out. He shook his head again. “No, I think you’re right. I’m holding on to things I shouldn’t be. I didn’t even realize it. Dean’s not like that anymore, and neither am I. He’s still a pain in my ass but I think… it’s more like how brothers are supposed to be? But I still feel like… like he’s hiding things from me. And the idea that he can’t trust me, his own brother, hurts.”

_ What could he be hiding? _

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed, leaning back and shaking his hair out of his face. “Like… maybe his feelings for Cas. I know they mean more than he lets on, but why won’t he just  _ tell _ me? it was pretty obvious when…”

Sam swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. Losing Cas  _ and  _ mom had hurt Sam too, but he’d been able to push it away with the prospect of helping Jack. Dean… Dean had almost fallen apart.

“He was pretty torn up when Cas was… when we thought Cas was dead. Dean gave up on life in general. I tried all the usual distractions, I tried talking about it, I tried to give him hope... but  nothing I did helped. He just… gave up. And if he doesn’t think I can’t see how he feels… that I wouldn’t know him well enough to see how much Cas meant to him – does he think I’d judge him for that? When, fuck,” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I’d do anything to be able to…”

To have Eileen back. Or Jess, or Amelia. Sam had fallen and fallen hard a few times. And every time it ended in disaster. At least with Eileen, he’d thought… an equal partner. If she was interested. And he’d thought she might have been, but then…

God, he was so glad they’d taken down the new ‘American’ chapter of the British Men of Letters. He just hoped he’d gotten the bastard responsible for her death.

_ So it hurts that he doesn’t talk to you? _

“Yeah, yeah I guess it does,” Sam said. “I should be used to it. It’s the Winchester Way. Started with our dad and, well, lessons learned.”

_ Lessons can be unlearned. _ She tapped the book again after quickly scribbling down the words.

“True,” Sam said thoughtfully.

_ Did you really go to Hell? _

“Yeah, Heaven too. Wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, though. Talk about having your beliefs shattered. One of the few comforts I had growing up aside from Dean was my faith and then I met  _ real  _ angels.” Sam laughed bitterly, even though he’d thought the sting had long since gone out of that one.

“I wanted to be special, which is pretty ironic considering how hard I tried to run away from being different, from being the freak.”

“It had been a real slap in the face, seeing how badly angels treated humans in general and me in particular, like we were nothing at all. I was an abomination in their eyes, through no fault of my own. And then we realized that Heaven was tearing itself apart on the inside and trying to take us with it. It wasn’t this perfect paradise folks were led to believe. You don’t eventually get to be with your loved ones either, just your memories of them. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.”

_ But  _ _ Cas _ _ is an angel _ ?

Sam read her words, the lines under Cas’s name and sighed, nodding.

“Yeah – but he’s different from the rest, which has been good for us, but has caused him no end of trouble. He’s suffered a lot. Sometimes,” Sam hesitated. “Sometimes I think it’s our fault, what he’s gone through, and maybe some things are, but I don’t think he ever actually fit in with the other angels. Not that he’s ever said that, exactly, but there’ve been hints. That’s okay, we’ve got his back now. He’s family.”

She smiled at Sam, turning back to her book and Sam to his, leaving him to think on things.

He’d surprised himself. To think he was perhaps a little jealous of Dean. Sam tried to piece together why that might be.

Dean was, as abrasive and insensitive as he could be, easily likeable. People were drawn to him in a way that people were never drawn to Sam. Dean seemed able to relate to them easily while Sam struggled to connect with people – even other hunters.

He was also, he realized, jealous over what Dean had with Cas. Except Dean didn’t really, did he?

There was feeling there, but… the more Sam thought about it, the more he realized that the two of them were always pulling away.

Dean was no happier than Sam, which meant there was no reason to be jealous of him.

It was sad, though, because at least one of them (or two, in this case) should really get the chance to be happy. And maybe, one day, Sam could be too.

He wanted to believe he could be, but every time he let himself hope for more, it was yanked away again.

His thoughts went straight back to Eileen and his chest went tight.

The grief was still there and, after all this time, with Jess and Amelia in his past, he knew it always would be. Maybe he was supposed to let it go, that was the healthy thing to do, right? But Sam didn’t think he ever could, not when there was so much guilt wrapped around the grief.

At least he had the reassurance of knowing that Amelia was still alive.

A chilling thought struck him that he didn’t  _ actually  _ know that. He hadn’t spoken to her in several years now and the world had been in mortal jeopardy quite a few times since then.

He resolved to find out for sure before the week was out, even if he had to call in favors to do it.


	4. Chapter 3 - Castiel

Castiel was reluctant to leave the bunker.

Truth be told, he was  _ always _ reluctant to leave the bunker… and Dean. But never could he find a reason to stay. Dean had once made it clear that he wasn’t welcome there unless the brothers needed something and  _ nothing _ Dean had done since had reversed that.

Even if Castiel had been almost certain on more than one occasion that Dean had changed his mind. Still, the words never left his mouth and Cas would not overstay his welcome, no matter how he longed for a reason to stay.

Now he had one.

May was skittish and scared and hurt. Though Castiel had healed her of her physical pains, the others remained. He had taken great care not to take anything from her mind during that touch of his grace to her soul other than her name, as he had learned long ago to respect the privacy of mortals in ways even the angels did not.

Though they should.

He felt a great compulsion to help her. If the behavior of the Winchesters were any indication, so did they. Rowena was, as always, a mystery to him.  She was, at once, b oth selfish and kind. A conundrum that only gave Castiel a headache.

Which was a feat in and of itself.

What was he anymore, that he felt both mortal and immortal? Neither angel nor human. It didn’t feel the same as the time he’d fallen slowly during the apocalypse. Nor did it feel the way it did when he’d become so suddenly human, stripped of his grace, his very being ripped away from him.

He’d always been different, even more so with the time he’d spent on Earth these past few years – and now he had life experience ( _ life!) _ that no other angel had ever had before.

It shaped him as even more of an oddball since no angel could possibly relate to all the things he’d gone through. Making decisions, falling (however inadvisably) in love, being mortal, being mortal enough to be possessable, and the biggest game changer of them all - dying.

Not just once, but at least four times now.

These things had changed him so much, that he  felt so damn lost. And having a purpose, having people accept him as… well,  _ whatever  _ he was… it was all that kept him going sometimes.

That and hope. Hope that someday Dean might return his feelings.

It was a longshot but then, so had been averting the Apocalypse. Winchesters and, by extension, their friends, seemed to pull off quite a few longshots. And so this was a hope that Cas clung too, despite knowing the odds were against him.

He couldn’t help it.

When he lost his faith in God and in Heaven, he’d put it in the Winchesters, in  _ Dean. _

He found May in the Library, sitting close to the doorway but managing to blend in with her surroundings, trying, he assumed, not to call attention to herself. She turned the pages of a book, one of the basic books most hunters started with, he’d learned. She jumped at every little sound, the hum of the ventilation systems kicking in, a dropped pan and a curse from the kitchen.

Clearing his throat, aware that there was no way he could avoid startling her, Castiel kept himself back a respectable distance and spoke. “May, I was wondering if you might like to help me in the garden and get some fresh air and sunlight?”

As he expected, she jumped – rather more violently then from all the other little noises, but perhaps that was his proximity – and she dropped the heavy tome she’d been reading. She scrambled to pick it up and hastily place it back on the table neatly before looking up at him with wide eyes.

“The bunker is a wonderful, safe place, but sometimes it’s a little claustrophobic, don’t you think?” he asked. She nodded slightly, and he took that as a sign to keep going. “When I’m here, I tend to a small garden I found above ground. I don’t think Sam nor Dean realize it’s even there. It was wildly overgrown and unkempt when I found it, but when I have time…” he shrugged. “I work on it. I find it… therapeutic, sometimes. Would you like to try it?”

She stared at him, biting her lip before slowly nodding once more. He smiled back at her as she stood and turned to leave the room, saying,

“Follow me.”

Castiel led the way through the bunker to a different, smaller door that let out - after a long climb up a flight of stairs - to a patch of ground that covered the roof. The first time he’d found it, had been from the outside, climbing a small hill to the top to find some space where no one would think to look for him. It was shaded from the road by trees, enabling him to keep some privacy, though the road wasn’t much traveled anyway.

The door was well hidden, and should have required a key, but it didn’t even have a knob. It seemed to  _ know  _ who was and wasn’t allowed inside, and the door would swing open and shut of its own accord as he approached it.

It had not done so when the rabbit had hopped up to it.

Sometimes, Castiel thought the bunker itself might be alive, but any time he tried to pursue that thought, he found it oddly hard to look at, and certainly, since he was far from the height of his powers, it was profoundly difficult to investigate with any reliability.

He was certain, though, that the idea would make both Sam and Dean uncomfortable, and since he didn’t detect any malice, Castiel kept the theory to himself.

Castiel could hear May’s footsteps following carefully along, keeping her distance, but trusting him enough to come outside was a good step forward.

Removing his trench coat, Castiel folded it, placing it gently on an old stone bench and rolling up his sleeves. “I find the act of putting my hands into the soil, to nurture things and help them to live, to make something beautiful – it grounds me, balances me.”

Kneeling, Castiel closed his eyes as he rested his fingers in the soft, warm dirt. He opened them again and stared around at his little garden. It needed work. It always did. He wasn’t here often enough to keep it up the way he would like, but every little bit he did, however infrequently, was a difference that could be seen and felt.

“All the mistakes I’ve made these past few years, all the pain and hurt I’ve seen or caused… every loss… the garden reminds me that there’s still hope and new life. Second chances. I know it doesn’t absolve me of my guilt or fix the past, but it helps me remember why I still try.” Cas shook his head, sure he wasn’t making sense.

“And I know I’m not actually wanted here. I can feel the lie every time Dean says it. I even confessed to him my love and he…” Castiel shook his head again. “He never even acknowledged it.” He chuckled bitterly. “True, I was on my deathbed at that point, but he’s never brought it up. Not once.”

Trailing a finger along the leaves of the closest plants gently, he turned to look at May who was now kneeling beside him, though with a healthy space still between them.

“I thought we’d start with weeding. Make space for the plants to grow. I keep a compost over there –" he nodded his head towards a corner of the garden and watched her head swivel around to look. “And the weeds will serve their part, though I do feel guilty uprooting them.”

They worked together in comfortable silence, broken only for the occasional murmur of instruction. Castiel pointed out the weeds and explained how to tell the difference between them and the other plants. "Their lives won't be wasted. In nature, God made everything to co-exist. While the weeds can choke out the lives of the plants we need, they grow fast, and we can use them to help grow the rest."

He deliberately didn’t think about God and God’s  _ plans _ . Cas was still a bit bitter about everything that had happened with  _ Chuck _ . That God had been there, right in front of his face the whole time and ignored him. The Archangels all thought they were  _ special _ , dealing with abandonment issues, abandoned by their dad.

They weren’t. All of Heaven had been abandoned. The Archangels were just the most petty, with all that power to play with.

Things didn’t have to go this way. But angels had thought God knew everything - after all, he’d  _ created  _ everything, so by extension, he must know all. But the earth, this universe… it wasn’t made solely by God’s design. Hael remembered making the Grand Canyon. Cas, himself, had helped place stars in the sky.

How much had actually been to plan, and how much had fallen into place through sheer dumb luck? But he didn’t tell her that. If there was one thing Cas had learned, it was that people found the world more comforting thinking there was an order to it all, a rhyme and reason to it, no matter their beliefs on free will, destiny, or religion.

A tap on his shoulder caused Castiel to look up for the first time in a while, surprised that she’d gotten close enough to touch him, to find May staring at him. She pointed down at the ground and he read the simple words scrawled in the loose soil.

_ Talk more? _

He blinked, surprised. "I'm not sure what to talk about. I've never been well versed in the... small talk of humans."

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, pointing at him with a raised brow, then herself.

"Ah, of course, you wouldn't know," Castiel mused. He supposed it was as good a topic as any, if May wanted the silence broken. "I'm an angel of the lord. Once, that meant something, but angels have lost their way. I rebelled against Heaven – “ He grimaced when she looked at him in horror.

“I rebelled against the corruption that had befallen the place I was once proud to call home.  And now I’m here, stuck.  Stuck between mortal and immortal, human and angel. Belonging to both and neither. Because of my rebellion, I fell.” His mouth quirked up, and he looked up into the sky, remembering flashes of that second time, when Metatron had cut out his grace.

The impact had hurt, had caused him a level of pain he wasn’t used to feeling, though he’d often been hurt worse as an angel.

“The first time didn’t exactly take, my power draining slowly. The second time happened faster, my powers  cut right out of me, my wings burnt and broken. I recovered part of my power, my Grace - my mojo, as Dean calls it - but it’s not what it once was. And of all the things I lost, it’s my wings that I miss most.”

Cas closed his eyes briefly against the pain of that loss. His wings had been the saving grace of being an angel, ironically enough.

“But none of that truly matters anymore. I don’t regret the actions that have brought me to this, though now I’m a ‘fish out of water’. Humans don't want me around for the most part because I’m not human enough, and my brothers and sisters have rejected me for becoming too human.” He huffed out a bitter laugh. He glanced at her to see her staring at him with wide, sympathetic eyes, patiently waiting for more.

He didn’t think he’d ever really talked about it. He’d started to, once or twice but things were always happening and he never wanted to overburden the Winchesters.

“I suppose... I feel lost, in a way. The only place that ever makes sense anymore is here. This bunker, the garden. Dean and Sam. Claire.” Jack, too. But Jack’s loss was too sudden and raw still. Would they ever find a way to bring him and Mary home? Cas wondered. “But I don't fit here either. I'm not like them and... and they know it."

She touched his arm sympathetically and he smiled sadly back at her, his heart heavy, resigned. He knew his worth and, as he’d said, it wasn’t what it once was.

“I don’t regret my actions,” he said again. “Dean, Sam and I, we’ve saved the world. It may not have gone to plan,” his mouth twisted wryly as he turned back to the garden, his eyes following a bee, “but if we hadn’t done anything, the world would have ended any number of times in the last decade. And…”

He sighed, lost in his thoughts.

“I just wish I was of more use to Dean then I am now. Other than my wings, that is my one true regret of falling. I’d gladly give them up again and again if it helped Dean in any way.’

A swish of sound came from behind him and when he turned to look, he saw she had wiped the dirt smooth and with a small smile, she was writing again.

_ Dean? _

Cas’s insides churned, a feeling that had more impact on him the closer to human he became. “Dean. I suppose I can tell you. I have the feeling, even if you were to talk, that you would keep my secrets, wouldn’t you?’

She nodded and Cas decided to take her at her word, despite her being a literal stranger to him.

“I love Dean. Angels should be incapable of love like this and yet… well, Naomi once told me I was  _ always  _ broken, even before I met the Winchesters. Always fighting back against the ways of Heaven. Maybe she’s right, but considering the things she did in the name of Heaven, I don’t see that it’s a bad thing,” he murmured. “Surely, if I wasn’t broken, I wouldn’t have fallen for Dean in the first place, feel so strongly for him, for a man who could never love me in return.’

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Here, let me show you what I have planned for the garden…”


	5. Chapter 4 - DEAN

Dean was puttering around in the garage, musing once more about their guest, wondering where she’d gone off to. She’d been nowhere to be found when he left the kitchen after clearing away their breakfast things and she wasn’t actually in the library like she normally was. She hadn’t been one to go wandering about yet and Dean thought maybe he should even be more worried about that than he was, but the thought dribbled away almost as soon it had come to him.

He turned up the radio, nodding when the classic rock station he’d found kicked in, the music echoing around the garage. Knowing he was alone, Dean allowed himself a few dancing steps as he moved about the section of the garage he’d set up to work in, gathering all the things he needed to work on Baby.

He turned and squeaked, jumping back at the sudden appearance of May.

“Jesus!” he breathed, easing his hand back form where a gun would normally be tucked in if he wasn’t safe inside the bunker. “Make some noise, kid,” he said gruffly, instantly regretting his rough tone as he realized she’d also leaped back at his reaction, her eyes wide and breathing hard.

He sighed. “Sorry, you scared me. I scared you. Let’s uh… call it even, okay?”

She relaxed slowly, quicker than he expected, and shrugged before nodding.

“So, where’ve you been all morning?” he asked, turning back to the bucket he’d snagged just before she’d got there. He picked up the hose and turned it on, watching the bucket fill. It took a long moment before he realized she wasn’t saying anything and he looked at her, seeing her avoid his gaze guiltily.

“Y’know, it’s okay that you’re not talking. Sometimes, that’s just how we deal with things,” Dean said. “Like Sammy said, it happened to me once, when I was a kid.” Still happened, if he was honest about it. Just the how of it changed sometimes. Not ‘talking’ wasn’t really an option in his world, so it had taken on other forms and he’d been helpless to stop it. How many times had he wanted to say something – to Sam or Cas or John, and instead all he’d come out with was a quip or a joke or, worse – something plain old nasty. Make ‘em think he was fine, or offend them so bad that they walk away and leave him alone.

With a sigh, he turned to look at her. She still stood nervously, and he took in how small and lost she looked in the huge garage and the oversized clothes they’d found for her. “Hey, you wanna help? When I feel… down, I find working helps me. Especially working on my Baby.” He patted the Impala’s hood lovingly.

She looked up, a nervous but hopeful light in her eyes. Cautiously, she nodded.

Together, they spent the afternoon with Dean teaching her the parts of the car, randomly asking her to point to this piece or that before moving on to giving Baby the good wash she deserved.

“Sometimes, when I need to talk but I can’t get the words out, I find myself here. She’s been with me my whole life and I think I’ve told this car things I’ve never told anybody else, but she keeps my secrets. And she doesn’t judge me, like my brother might, or my dad did. She doesn’t care if I muddle up the words. It… it helps, I guess. Let’s me get it out, get my thoughts in order, that sort of thing.”

A tapping on the car pulled Dean’s attention up towards May. Her mouth opened but nothing came out and she snapped it closed again, turning away with a glare, obviously angry at herself if the fists clenched at her sides was any indication.

Dean knew how that was.

“You wanna know what I tell her?” Dean surprised himself with the realization that he didn’t actually mind possibly telling this stranger a few things. Not his whole life story, sure, or all of his secrets, even, but maybe a few things.

She looked up and the glare had wiped away and she smiled tentatively, nodding once more.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, sure, why not? I guess – it’s kinda weird, but I guess it’s easier to talk to strangers than the people you love best. It  _ is  _ weird, right?”

She shrugged and he chuckled. “Naw, you can admit it. It’s really damn weird.”

She reached down and drew in the soap suds currently covering the car “Y” before wiping it away and going back to properly washing the metal.

Dean blew out a breath. “I guess… some of it’s got to do with my dad, y’know? Oh well, you don’t but… see, me an’ Sam lost our mom when we were little – that was the first time I stopped talking – a demon – yeah, those are real – a demon killed her though we didn’t know that then. And I had to grow up fast. Four years old and I was already taking care of my baby brother. I can remember dad saying shit like, “ _ It’s just a scrape, Dean. Man up and stop crying – what kind of an example is that to set for your little brother?” _ Course, it wasn’t always just a scrape. A head wound that needed stitches – which he did right there – a fuckin’ broken arm, and crap like that. That’s what he was like.”

Dean paused, sighed, and shook his head.

“So, yeah. Then I grew up the way dad wanted me to. Put the things I wanted on the back burner. Acted the way he wanted cause it was what he expected. Still got no praise for it but I was a good soldier. He’s been gone well over 10 years now and you’d think me bring free of him I could… I could learn how to be myself again. But you spend so long being one way, it’s hard to break the habits no matter how much you want to. I mean, whenever I try, the people I love kinda get weirded out about it. But strangers, they got no preconceptions of you that you might shatter. So... easier.” Dean shrugged.

Dean looked up in surprise when May gently touched his arm, gave it a quick pat and pulled away again. He smiled at her, at her understanding. And absolutely counted it as a victory that she felt brave enough to do it, however brief the contact was. “Heh, thanks.”

She looked at him expectantly when he didn’t keep talking and he threw his head back and laughed for a moment.

“So pushy,” he grinned, feeling somewhat more lighthearted than he usually did. Then he sighed again. “I got so much pent up shit I don’t even know where to start, truthfully.”

Dean was quiet again, wiping down the car gently. It surprised him when he did open his mouth again, before he’d even brought some order to his thoughts.  “It just burns me sometimes how fucking oblivious Sam is and I have to remind myself it's my own fucking fault he never realized half the shit that went down when we were kids.”

His hands moved harshly over the car and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Baby didn’t deserve to be treated poorly because he was feeling like shit. When he got his hands back under control, he started again.

“I just want to be myself without all the macho posturing. Is that so much to ask?” Dean whined. He winced at the tone in his voice, knew that if John were still there, he’d have given Dean an earful for it.

But for some reason, he didn’t stop.

“I want Sam to know me as well as he _ thinks _ he does. He’s my brother and… I just want to  _ be  _ his brother. Not his dad or his mom. Just me, just Dean, for once. But I don’t know  _ how _ – how do I be myself? I guess a part of me is worried that, if I’m really myself for the first time ever, then people will abandon me. Stop loving me. After all, who I was wasn’t good enough for dad, so why would it be for anyone else?” Dean growled, and tossed the sponge into the bucket at his feet, watching it splash out into puddles, suddenly morose.

Mays’ head turned at some sound and Dean looked too, even though he knew the bunker was safe, even though he hadn’t heard anything and she was probably still dealing with her own trauma.

There was nobody, though, and he shook his head, waiting for her to relax. While he did, he bent back down to retrieve the sponge and kept going. When she finally turned back to him, she smiled at him sadly, and wordlessly encouraged him to keep going.


	6. Chapter 5 - SAM

Sam had quickly gotten used to the sight of May around the bunker. She was quiet, inquisitive and Sam enjoyed talking with her. Though she had no voice of her own, she did very well in making her own wishes known.

When a notebook wasn’t handy, she somehow found other means. Adaptable. Kind of like a Winchester, he thought with some amusement.

Of course, she didn’t seem to be anywhere right now and that… that was odd. He’d gone down to the library and there’d been no sign of her. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign, that she was finally feeling comfortable enough to emerge from what she’d deemed as a safe space, or if he should be panicking.

Maybe a little of both?

He wandered through the most likely locations first – the war room being just off the library. Then the kitchen, in case she’d gotten hungry. With no sign of her in either, he went down the hall towards the bathrooms and the rooms but then he hesitated. If she  _ was  _ in the bathroom, or in the room Dean had set aside for her, Sam certainly didn’t want to barge in there, invade her privacy and frighten her half to death. Not only was it rude, but whatever progress she’d made would likely be irrevocably lost.

“May? Are you around? Just knock or, or something to let me know you if you are? I had some new books I thought you’d like,” Sam said. there was no answering knock and Sam turned around. He hoped to god she hadn’t gone into any of the lower levels. He and Dean  _ still  _ didn’t know all the things that were in the bunker and there was no doubt that some of it was dangerous.

He turned away and headed for the garage instead. He hadn’t seen Dean either. Maybe he knew where their new resident had gone off too. As he approached the garage, Sam paused, still in the hall outside the garage, hearing Dean’s voice, just out of sight.

Who was Dean talking to?

“-family always comes first. Not that I regret that but… as much as I love Sam and he loves me, I think we smother each other. I've tried to give him space. I've tried to act the annoying big brother as I should be, not like the mom and dad I have been, but it’s... hard. I feel like I'm stuck in a strange limbo, neither one or the other. I'm not free to be myself because it's not who he's learned to see, who he looks to when the world goes to shit. And that's my fault. I pretended to be things I wasn’t for too long. But it's not like we've either of us got anybody else to lean on, not anymore.”

There was quiet for a moment and now that Dean wasn't talking, Sam could hear the old radio Dean had put back together playing softly.

“What about Cas?” Dean’s voice was defensive and Sam could almost see just how Dean would be standing.

_ What about Cas, indeed _ , Sam thought with a smirk. When would the two of them ever confess how they felt for each other? Was… wait, was this what Dean meant? What he was afraid Sam would judge him for?

“Look… Cas is awesome, I'll be the first to admit it and he's always been there for us when we need him but,” Dean sighed heavily. Sam could imagine his hands rubbing over his face. “Poor guy’s been through the wringer and he hardly needs me dragging him down even more than I already have. Plus, he's immortal, so there's that, unless I screw that up for him too.”

“Well yeah,” Dean’s voice got lower, more brittle and Sam edged around the corner carefully to see what was going on. May and Dean stood by Baby, the sleek black car covered in soap. May had drawn a heart with wings and a halo. “But it doesn't matter how much I love someone. This life I lead? We've lost everyone I've ever loved. I'm poison. Even the other angels know it. I'm a needy little shit that can't stand to be by himself. I dragged Sammy back into this life and destroyed his dreams, and I've dragged Cas down so far he's fallen twice.”

Dean turned his back, shaking his head.

Movement across the garage caught Sam's attention and he noticed Cas standing there, his trench coat folded over his arm, his sleeves rolled up and his head cast down, staring at the floor or possibly his shoes. Neither Dean nor May could see him from this angle but Sam's view was wholly unobstructed.

The sight would break Sam's heart if it hadn't already broken just listening to his brother being more open to a stranger than he could ever remember Dean being with Sam.

No… there had been one or two times that stuck out in his memory. Like when Dean had admitted what he had done in hell. That he'd remembered everything just as Uriel had said. Sam also remembered using that against him, as justification for turning to Ruby, of all people.

Just earlier this year he'd failed to listen to Dean when he'd been wearing his heart out on his sleeve.

How long had Sam been ignoring Dean? Ignoring the pain he felt, the things he’d hidden? Was Sam so self-centered and selfish that he hadn’t noticed – or hadn’t  _ wanted  _ to notice? Or was it more that he didn’t care, didn’t want to risk the only stability he’d ever had in his life – Dean.

How many times had Sam gone to extremes just to keep that stability? Did things he shouldn’t have done, gone to lengths no sane person would have gone?

Just to keep Dean around.

As much as they fought, as much as they disagreed about certain fundamental things, the times in Sam’s life when Dean wasn’t around hadn’t been pretty. The closest to being okay was when he’d walked away by  _ his  _ choice, when he went to Stanford. Because then he knew Dean was safe, with dad, and more than capable of handling anything thrown their way.

Back when things had been so much simpler and they only dealt with normal, run of the mill monsters.

But when the trickster – Gabriel – had pulled his stunt with Dean dying over and over again (just to prove a point), when Dean’s demon deal had come due, when the Mark had claimed him – Sam had gone off the rails.

And when Purgatory happened, he’d just shut down so completely that Sam wasn’t entirely sure where he’d be right now if it hadn’t been for that damn dog.

If Sam was honest, he hated any sort of change that took Dean away from him – including, apparently, Dean himself, whenever Dean acted in ways Sam wasn’t accustomed to. He was such a damn hypocrite about it too, begging Dean to change then socking him the gut with disbelief and disapproval or both, depending on the circumstances.

Sometimes, he even used it against Dean, he realized suddenly. Anytime Dean let Sam see beneath the surface – that time during the first apocalypse came to mind, again, when Dean had talked about his time in Hell – Sam had taken advantage of that information for his own gains, his own purposes, throwing it back in Dean’s face.

Fuck, he was a horrible brother, Sam though, rubbing a hand down his face.


	7. Chapter 6 - ROWENA

Rowena found herself roaming the halls of the bunker aimlessly and wondering where everyone had got to. She knew the bunker was big, but it wasn’t exactly empty.

She checked the most likely places, a little hesitant to actually knock on anybody's doors. As she passed by the war room, she thought she heard music.  _ Ah! _ She thought smugly, following the music through the hallway. She was unsurprised to find herself at the bunkers garage.

She was, however, surprised by the moose lurking in the hall.

“Why, hello, Sam,” she said. Rowena nearly laughed at the picture of Sam jerking back out of the doorway and spinning to face.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping!” he protested.

“Aye, whatever you say, Sam,” Rowena said with a smile. She patted his arm - the big strong muscles - on her way past. As she had thought, Dean was there with May. He jerked his attention to her, staring at her like a deer in headlights and she beamed at him.

“Hello, Dean,” Rowena said. “I was looking for May so I could check on her.” She walked closer to the pair of them, standing beside Dean’s beloved black monstrosity. Secretly, Rowena thought it was a fetching car, mostly because of how lovingly Dean cared for it, but she wouldn’t admit that aloud, just to mess with Dean.

“Oh, uh, she’s good,” Dean muttered. “Been showing her shit about cars. She’s a quick learner.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Rowena hummed non committedly. Turning to May, she said, “Why don’t you take a break, join me for some tea in the kitchen.” Dean opened his mouth to protest and Rowena turned and held up a finger. “Tut-tut! No boys allowed. This is a girls’ only affair.”

She booped him on the nose, Dean’s eyes going cross-eyed when she did, before looping her arm through May’s elbow and leading her off. Startled, May stumbled along with her a few seconds before she managed to match Rowena’s glide.

Letting go as soon as they passed Sam, May shrinking slightly as they did and Sam doing his best to remain non-threatening. Humming lightly, Rowena led the way to the kitchen. She made quick work puttering about the kitchen.

“I have to give Dean credit. He keeps a tidy kitchen,” Rowena said approvingly as she settled the kettle on the stove. The flame lit under it and she opened the cabinets to grab a couple of mugs. It didn’t take long before the two of them were settled at the small table with fresh, piping hot mugs of tea. Rowena held hers daintily while May cupped hers with both hands, as if she was drawing warmth and comfort straight from the tea itself.

She very well may be. Rowena was of the mind that tea cured many ills, or at least eased them enough to be dealt with.

Sipping her tea, Rowena asked with a raised brow, “Now what shall we talk about?”

May raised her own eyebrow over her cup in response.

“Didn’t you know? It’s an unwritten rule that when two women meet for tea they bond over gossip,” Rowena said with a wink.

May simply stared. Something about the silence made Rowena think she was being judged. Finally, she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh  _ fine _ … men can bond over tea too.”

May smiled lightly before gesturing at Rowena.

“Oh. You want me to go first? How very generous of ye,” Rowena said, unsurprised. So far, things were going nearly exactly as she thought they would. She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Hmmm, perhaps I shall, but I actually find myself at a wee bit of a loss on where to start. I have to admit, I hadn’t expected that.”

Rowena sipped her tea, considering. “First, I suppose I should tell you that I’m old.”

May shook her head and Rowena laughed.

“Ye don’t believe me? Thank ye, my dear. I’ll admit, I’m not nearly as old as Dean’s handsome but oblivious angel – maybe not so oblivious now, I  _ did _ see the dear lurking on the other side of that garage, after all, just like our moose. But I _ am _ a fair bit older than the average human, which ye might find a wee bit hard to believe.”

Rowena paused to sip more tea and looked at May considering.

“Or not, for that matter, as you don’t actually know me. I keep forgetting that part. Hmm…” She sipped her tea slowly before continuing. Despite  _ wanting  _ to talk, having gone so far as to arrange it, even, Rowena was finding it exceedingly difficult. Secrets had become too much of her life, too much of her armor to keep her life and heart safe.

She sighed, and set the cup down. She needed to do this. It had become readily apparent, all too recently, that she may be going a wee ‘off the rails’ as the Winchesters might have said. “My life was ordinary, at first. It was hard but we had the things we needed, for the most part.”

“And then I fell in love.” Rowena laughed bitterly. “Love is what does you in, don’t you agree? I fell in love and suddenly all my hardships meant nothing, because he was there by my side. But love unwisely given always comes at a cost. Things changed and I found out what I really meant to him. He broke the promises he made to me after he used me. He discarded me like I was nothing. My poor heart was devastated, and I became a pariah in my own town, condemned by family and friends alike.”

May looked at her sympathetically over her mug and Rowena found the gaze too much to meet. She looked away, silent as she battled back the tears the memories dragged from her.

Taking a deep breath - this was what she’d come her for, after all, catharsis - Rowena continued, her voice filled with steel. “I vowed I would  _ never _ be in a position like that again. I turned to witchcraft, to the accumulation of power. If I had had power, he would never have  _ dared  _ to cast me aside like that, make me a laughingstock for all. In my pain and despair, power became my overriding desire.”

Rowena’s words quieted. “I have regrets. So many, about a great many things. About the things I did along the way. My son… Fergus… he’s probably my biggest. He was clever and precocious but I left him. Abandoned him the way I had been. Is it any wonder then that he followed my path? Carving himself a way to the top ensured he would have the power. Same as me.”

“But he fell onto the same trap,” She sighed and leaned forward as if it were a great secret from the Winchesters. Well, some of it still was, she supposed. “Power wasn’t what either of us truly wanted. We just wanted people to want  _ us _ . To have people who thought we were worthy of having around, to love as we loved in return.”

“Is it any wonder then, dear, that we both fell in with the Winchesters?”

May smiled at her and Rowena laughed lightly. May, it appeared, was falling for that same Winchester charm.

“You know... at first, as much as I admired them, I despised them? I was so proud to see how Fergus had risen to the top despite everything but he had made that grand mistake. He fell in love. And I hated the Winchesters. He may have been a demon...the King of Hell actually... But he was wrapped around their little fingers. He gave them everything for the chance of just a little happiness.”

Rowena closed her eyes as she admitted, “ _ That _ is what I did to my son.”

She opened her eyes and sighed. “I suppose it’s one of the reasons I’m so invested in seeing Dean and that angel finally confess their love for each other? If neither Fergus nor I can be happy, then maybe we can help the people we’ve somehow come to care for against our will to be happy.”

Shaking her head, Rowena said, “Probably will never work. They  _ are _ Winchesters, after all. Even that angel.” She leaned forward earnestly. “But maybe that’s where  _ you _ can help.” Rowena watched May start a little and chuckled. “Oh aye… never underestimate the value of a good ear.”

Rowena looked down at her cup and back up. “More tea, dear?”

May smiled and held her empty mug out.


	8. Chapter 7 - SAM

As Rowena left, Sam stood exposed to Dean’s guilty gaze. A blink, and then a mask fell into place and Sam realized with a jolt that… that’s exactly what it was. It wasn’t the same sort of mask Dean used on a hunt, when talking to the authorities, or to the victims, but it was just as much a mask.

The realization that he didn’t actually  _ know  _ his brother was still reeling in his head, but any doubts he had about the veracity of that realization was obliterated by that mask setting over Dean’s face.

He’d done that. Sam.

Jesus.

He moved forward slowly, taking the steps down into the garage easily and approaching Dean. But when he stood before him, Sam realized, he had no idea how to start. He stared hopelessly at Dean, at the still soap covered car, and inspiration hit him.

“Want some help with that?”

Dean shrugged. “Knock yourself out. But,” he said, stabbing a finger in Sam’s direction warningly, “if you scratch her-“

“I’ll commit hari kari. Got it.” Sam rolled his eye and almost smiled. This part of Dean, he knew. At least, he thought he did. Fuck. How much of Dean was a mask and how much was real?

He picked up the second sponge and they worked on opposite sides of the car for a short time, but Sam noticed the tension in Dean’s shoulders, the flicked glances in his direction, and decided it was now or never.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam said.

“For what?” Dean gritted out. His arm moved faster.

“For… a lot of things. For things I didn’t even realize till today. I put a lot on your shoulders. I always have. I guess… I guess I don’t like change when everything else in our life was so temporary. It was good to have something, some _ one  _ to cling to, a constant that would always be there for me. And I haven’t exactly been the same for you in return,” Sam said.

“Not your job, Sam,” Dean said shortly.

“Neither was it yours, Dean,” Sam said. “I always knew our family – and, our family dynamic, I guess – was fucked up, but I don’t think I ever really  _ got  _ it, y’know? It worked for us, so I didn’t think about it. Only, I was wrong, wasn’t I? It was only really working for one of us.”

Dean stopped, his eyes closing, a fleeting expression of pain crossing his face. “It’s okay, Sammy. You don’t have to –“

“I think I do, Dean. You’re my brother and I never realized till recently how much I don’t even  _ know  _ you. How many things did I misread cause you wanted me too? Or missed because you hid them, all because of, of what? Because of the way Dad raised us? Because I’m  _ selfish _ ?” Sam threw the sponge he’d forgotten he even had in his hands to the ground. “That’s gotta end. It’s not healthy for you, and in the end, it’s gonna bite us in the ass.”

“Think it might have done that already, a few times,” Dean pointed out with a wry little grin.

Sam barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you might be right about that.”

“So, what now?” Dean asked softly. Sam looked at him carefully, saw the mask slip, saw the raw vulnerability underneath and he swallowed.

“We start over. Learn how to be brothers. Talk more – and I mean, actually talk, no matter how chick-flicky it gets,” Sam said, getting a snorting laugh out of Dean and smiling himself in response before he went on, “And I promise not to just dismiss it or use any of it against you. I know I have in the past. That… it wasn’t right, Dean, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know if I know  _ how,  _ Sam,” Dean admitted gruffly.

Sam pushed his way around the impala, stopping to stand before Dean.

“Then we figure it out together,” he said. “And… share the burdens, don’t keep them locked up. Don’t try to be strong for me. Instead, we be strong for each other, which means letting the other see when we aren’t. Okay?”

Before Dean could move out of the way, Sam wrapped him into a hug, feeling Dean’s arms come up instinctively around him. It was the usual hug, comforting in the way that hugs with Dean’s always were, except now that Sam was paying attention, he could feel a light tremble in Dean’s arms, the tight clench of his fingers in Sam’s shirt.

How many times had Dean hugged him, needing the contact, the comfort for  _ himself –  _ but had refused to ask or admit that need in any way, always a denial or offhanded quip ready and waiting to deflect from himself?

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam whispered. “For making you feel you couldn’t even be yourself around the one of the few people you  _ should  _ feel free to.”

Dean pulled away, frowning. “One of – you and who else?”

“Cas, of course. Don’t –“ Sam held up a hand. “I think that’s one of the few things that  _ didn’t  _ escape me, Dean. You and Cas are close. You could be closer if you let it happen.”

Dean turned red, turned away while rubbing at the back of his neck. Sam saw him tense up – then saw him close his eyes and breathe out slowly. Saw him fight back his instinctive reaction. Dean’s eyes opened but he didn’t look directly at Sam, just eyeing him out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re uh, okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean barked out another laugh, this one a lot more wet. A hand came up and wiped at his face. “You uh, don’t even seem surprised…”

Sam shrugged. “I’ll admit. It took me a while to figure it out, but I always just figured you’d tell me when you were ready. Never thought… it was me you thought wasn’t ready.”

“Don’t matter none, Sam,” Dean sighed, shoulders slumping. “I fucked that up a long time ago.”

“What? No, Cas cares about you – “

Shaking his head, Dean turned to face Sam. “Nah, I mean, maybe he does but, I’ve said too many things I can’t take back, man. Done too many things I can’t ever make right. I abandoned him when he needed us – needed  _ me  _ the most. How’s he ever gonna trust me again after that? I don’t deserve it, that’s what. And he deserves better.”

Sam looked up, saw Castiel edging closer – damn, he’d forgotten Cas had been close at hand the whole time – and looked back at Dean. “Maybe, but I think you owe it to yourselves to actually talk it out, let him make that choice. I think you might be surprised.”

Dean looked at him suspiciously, then his eyes widened and he spun about, choking out, “C-Cas?”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said gently, laying his trenchcoat to the side on a stack of crates.

“Go on, Dean,” Sam said, patting Dean’s shoulder as encouragingly as he could and then backing away. He didn’t even need to be quiet, Dean and Cas lost in each other’s eyes in that way that had clued Sam in way back when.

Instead, he headed for the kitchen, completely forgetting that Rowena and May were there. He froze in the doorway, but whatever girl talk Rowena had been planning must have already finished because she beamed up at him where he stood in the doorway.

“Hullo, Samuel. Just in time. The water just finished heating. Tea?”

He blinked, then smiled and walked down the steps. “You know, I think I will.”


	9. Chapter 8 - Castiel

Castiel hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He knew it was wrong, he knew Dean would be upset, but he’d come back in only a short while after May and had heard nearly the whole of their conversation. Feeling guilty he’d been about to turn away when he caught sight of Sam on the other side and then caught his name falling from Dean’s lips.

From that moment, there was no longer any thoughts of leaving. He was frozen in place, his mind racing even as he continued to listen to Dean, then Dean and Sam.

Over the years, he’d finally come to understand what he felt for Dean and how that was different from his regard for Sam. He cared and loved them both but the depths to which he loved Dean were, indeed, more profound as he had once said to the brothers – even though, at the time, he still hadn’t understood it.

But now he did.

And he’d been certain it was too late. He’d made too many mistakes, mistakes that couldn’t be forgiven. He hadn’t thought that Dean might feel the same.

They both had made mistakes, had said or done things they regretted, that they believed were unforgivable by the other. It had just never occurred to Castiel that this was anything more than one sided – not with how often Dean seemed to dismiss him, not with how often Dean said Castiel was family – like a brother. Despite the longing Castiel could feel from Dean, the idea that Dean could love him had been near laughable.

Longing took many forms. The yearning of a daughter for a father or father figure. The need of comfort or a close friend. Worry over someone’s well being. A simple wondering or an idle thought occasionally could ping across an angel’s radar. Danger, too, could cause longing – desperate wishing for someone who could help or regrets that things had been left unsaid.

The days when Castiel actually could answer  _ those  _ calls in mere seconds were long gone, and relying on human methods were more than a bit frustrating. Having to travel the slow way, knowing that it’ll likely be far too late by the time he arrived. Forced into using phones just to check up on those he cared for, fearing that moment when the longing could cut out, be cut off and permanently silenced because  _ he  _ couldn’t get there in time.

It was agonizing.

Even more so when it involved Dean and Sam who always seemed to throw themselves into danger with reckless abandon.

He got it. It’s who they were. It was who Castiel was. This need to help, to make a difference, it was born and bred into them, and he didn’t think it could be changed if they tried.

So longing, just sensing it, didn’t tell him how a person really, truly felt. It didn’t provide the words or motivations behind the feeling and now…

Now he found that maybe he’d misjudged after all. Maybe, maybe there had been something more to Dean’s longing, to his words, to the resigned pain in his eyes, than Castiel had realized. Emotions, after all, were so terribly new to him. Possibly not for the first time, true, but as Naomi had admitted to multiple tampering’s of Castiel’s mind over the millennia, did it really matter?

Now, though, hope was filling him.

Had Dean’s words meant what Castiel hoped they did?

“C-Cas?” Dean asked as Castiel approached.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said. Dean relaxed slightly at the familiar words and vaguely, Castiel noted Sam slipping out of the garage, leaving the two of them alone with Baby. She was an inanimate object, but with the care and history that resided in her, she was almost a presence herself and Castiel couldn’t help but run a hand gently over a patch of freshly cleaned surface. The reverence in his touch must have been clear to Dean, because the hunter relaxed just that little bit more.

Castiel stopped, stood before Dean, feeling slightly naked without the familiar weight of his trenchcoat but maybe, he realized, it was something he needed. They stared at each other, eyes met. As always, Castiel felt like they were having an entire conversation on a whole other level that he hadn’t yet deciphered, too lost in the warm green of Dean’s eyes.

It was Dean who broke their gaze, looking away from Cas, looking down, hands clenched in fists at his side as if warring with himself.

Maybe he was.

Suddenly, Castiel felt his tongue tie. Dean hadn’t actually once said in either of the overheard conversations that he loved Castiel as more than a brother. Hadn’t once actually said… what if he was wrong?

“I’m sorry,” Dean said softly. “I –“ he choked off and Castiel stepped closer, his hand drawn like a magnet to Dean’s shoulder.

“What is it?” he asked gently. “You can always tell me anything, Dean. You know that.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Maybe. Maybe not. What if you don’t feel the same as me?”

Castiel tilted his head. “I’m fairly certain I’ve already told you I love you. I have since thought you didn’t feel the same as you never once brought it up, after.”

Head shooting up, Dean’s green eyes met Castiel’s again with a furrow running over his brow. “Dude, death bed confessions don’t count. Besides, you…” Dean swallowed. “You said you loved us, all of us.”

“No, I said  _ you _ ,” Castiel said. “Specifically, looking at you. And then I included the rest of my friends.”

“Family. You’re family, Cas,” Dean said, a little dazedly. “I know we do a shit poor job of showing it sometimes, but you’ve long since been more than just a friend to all of us.”

“I’d like, if you’re amenable, to be more than just friends, more than just family, to you, Dean, if you feel the same way,” Castiel said, laying his cards all on the table, as Dean would say, his voice low and a little rough with so many feelings converging at once. Hope and fear were at the forefront of it all, battling with each other. His heart pounding – and it didn’t even need to, but there it went – he said four more words, words that could not be misconstrued in any way. “Can I kiss you?”

He stood, frozen, body suddenly now unable to bring in so much as a breath and despite not even needing it, Castiel was dizzy as he awaited an answer from the wide-eyed Dean. The silence stretched agonizingly. To his angelic senses, only 2.5 second had passed, but his human ones already assured him it was an eternity.

Had he said, had he asked too much? Or had he not yet said what needed to be said? Was he wrong in thinking Dean might actually feel the same? Was he wrong for wanting Dean at all? Was God – was  _ Chuck –  _ about to come down and smite him for his audacity?

Then a sound, so soft Castiel would not have heard it if he weren’t an angel, accompanied by a longing so deep it nearly staggered him, reached his ears.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out.

The second the word was uttered, time rushed forward again and Castiel found himself kissing Dean. Joy flooded him as Dean kissed him back, just as eagerly. It was a mix of hard and wet, with soft and gentle and it lasted for eons and was cut off too quickly as Dean eventually pulled back with a chuckle.

The whine Castiel heard came from him, which he only realized with Dean chuckled again, rubbing his thumb over Castiel’s jaw and staring deeply, wonderingly into Castiel’s eyes.

“How can we have this, Cas?” Dean finally asked, the smile falling away. It hurt to watch and Castiel would do anything to have it return. “I’ve hurt you so much. I don’t deserve –“

Castiel brought his hand up to cover Dean’s. “We, Dean. We’ve both hurt the other. We’ve both done things we regret. Or things we thought were best at the time and… I suggest, as Sam did, that we start over. No more hiding behind fears, no more hiding  _ ourselves _ . Just start over, with a promise to  _ talk _ about things instead of merely reacting. No more lies between us because we think the other can’t handle something. It only leads to more misunderstandings, and heartbreak.”

“I don’t think I can change so easily,” Dean choked. “I’m gonna fuck it up again.”

“So am I,” Castiel admitted. “You and Sam are my human experience and I know there are things I don’t understand but I think the important thing here is we try. Together. Support each other. Can we promise that?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, a smile twitching at his lips. “Yeah, I can do that. I promise, Cas.”

“And I promise too, Dean.”


	10. Chapter 9 - Dean

It was a very happy, very euphoric Dean that followed Castiel to the kitchen, finally. They’d finished washing off Baby amidst interspersed kisses. Dean was quickly growing addicted. By the time the last rag was put away, his stomach was grumbling and though he wanted to simply hole up in his room with Cas, he knew food would have to come first.

When they entered the kitchen, it was to see the table already occupied by Sam, May and Rowena. Rowena took one look at them and smiled.

“Well, it’s about time,” she said. “I was beginning to lose hope for the both of ye.”

Sam looked at Rowena speculatively. “I didn’t think you had such a soft spot for love,” he said.

She sighed. “I’ve always been a romantic at heart. A few hard lessons in my early years tempered that, and I… trampled it as flat as I could. I’ve come to regret that. I’m turning over a new leaf, Samuel,” she said.

Dean looked at Cas and then at Sam and he grinned. “I think we all are. I don’t know how we got here but…” he looked back at Cas and gave his fingers a squeeze. Cas beamed at him, one of those wide beaming grins that were so rare to see and took Dean’s breath away.

Suddenly the room flashed with a blinding light and when it cleared, May was dissolving into a shower of sparkles. Dean, Cas and Sam stared at the empty space before slowly turning their gazes to Rowena who was smiling triumphantly, not in the least bit surprised.

Dean’s eyes narrowed almost instantly. “What the hell – what happened to May? Rowena, you know something, don’t you? What the hell just happened?”

Rowena’s triumphant smile turned into a grin. With satisfaction dripping from her voice, she answered Dean. “That , my dears, is called  _ therapy _ .”

Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “My Grace is low and whatever she cast prevented me from realizing it until just now, but the last few weeks were… May was never here.”

Dean swallowed, leaning into Cas. “So, none of it was real?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Rowena crossed the room and pulled the kettle off the stove, pouring water into all the mugs May had left behind when she disappeared. “Of course, it was real. The things we did, the things we said – all of that truly happened. May was just a figment of our combined imaginations. She  _ was  _ the spell. Conjured up to get us to talk about our problems, clear the air and to… heal. She may not have been real, but what we got out of it was very much so.”

Blinking, Dean demanded harshly, “So, you’re saying you  Beverly Barlowed me?”

Rowena turned back to face them, her mug held in both hands. “I'm sorry, what? I’m afraid I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, as usual.”

Sam blinked at the red-haired witch, staring at her disappointingly. Oh ho! What had Dean missed there? "Rowena! What gave you the right to mess with our heads?

“Why, you did, of course," she answered mildly, sipping at her tea primly.

Dean glared. "I think I’d remember giving you permission to work your hoodoo on me."

"Boys, magic of this nature would never work if you were unwilling. Trust me, you signed off on it. You Winchesters were practically screaming inside of your heads for help. You needed this..." she paused and said quietly, "We  _ all  _ needed this."

Dean scoffed, while Sam glared but Cas took it in stride.

“She’s right, Dean. About all of it.” Cas stared into Dean’s eyes and Dean found himself caught there. But instead of the usual guilt that would have accompanied such action in the days pre-May, Dean allowed himself to drown in those eyes, in the love that shone from the blue depths.

“Magic such as this needs consent as much as Angels do. We might not have been aware of it consciously, but we  _ were  _ aware. You, yourself, have used such fine print to manipulate things to your liking before. And this was needed. We all had baggage to rid ourselves of. Truths to speak and pain to share. We needed to forgive each other, and ourselves. Rowena gave that to us. To  _ all  _ of us.” Castiel reached out and gently took Dean’s hand in his again – when had Dean dropped it? - threading their fingers together. “I, for one, regret it not at all.”

Gulping, Dean nodded. “Yeah, okay. I guess I gotta admit that I don’t either.”

Sam sighed. “That’s all well and good but… what about May? She seemed so real. Was she really nothing more than a mass hallucination? How was she created?”

“Little bit of this, little bit of that. The spell drew on all of us to create her. Gave her a history that would resonate with all of us, making it easier to share the things that we had never given breath to before. Pain shared is pain halved, so I’ve heard,” Rowena explained.

“So, you cast a magic spell and  _ bam _ , all our problems went away?” Dean bit out.

“Don’t be silly,” Rowena scoffed, making Dean  _ feel  _ every bit as silly as she’d just said he shouldn’t be. He was probably turning red. “Trauma doesn’t just  _ go away _ .”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable question,” he muttered. “I mean, why else would you go to the trouble of casting it, then?”

“Because, dear,” Rowena’s voice gentled, her smile softened, and something in her that Dean had glimpsed once or twice – hell, who was he kidding, the glimpses were coming far oftener these days – shone through a little. “My wee little spell was never meant to cure us, it was meant to get the ball rolling, so to speak.”

“I think we can all agree that the four of us have gone through quite a lot in our lifetimes – several, in some cases,” she said, with a little nod to Cas, who nodded gravely back. “Therefore, we all have quite a bit of trauma to unravel. That  _ cannot _ happen if we refuse to talk.”

“So, the spell created someone who couldn’t talk, and, what encouraged us to fill the silent spaces?” Sam asked slowly.

“Indeed. And I don’t know about you, but I feel a little better having aired my troubles to a sympathetic ear – however fake that ear was. I may even work my way up to telling one of you, if you’d be willing. Because if you were,” she said, “then we can help  _ each other  _ to heal. What we’ve been through is enough to send most people running for the hills. Who else  _ can  _ we turn to, but each other?”

Sam was nodding. “It only makes sense,” he agreed.

“Indeed, Samuel. I’m tired of being alone, of being an island of strength and solitude, never letting anyone in, never letting anyone help. Aren’t you?”

She even sounded tired and Dean looked away from her, the anger draining away – most of it already gone before that moment even – and thought about it. She wasn’t wrong. Even before Sam and Cas had overhead what Dean had been saying to May – he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that she wasn’t real, had never been real – admitting things out loud had helped. It was the same reason he told Baby all his secrets. It helped. But unlike Baby, May – or the spell, or whatever – had been able to guide the conversation, in it’s own limited way, and that had helped more, got Dean thinking just a little bit more clearer.

Then Sam and Cas had come to him, because of what they’d heard from his own mouth, things he’d kept from them because he’d been too scared to speak up, and… they hadn’t been angry. They’d been supportive. They’d been… Dean gazed at Cas with a lump in his throat.

They’d cut through the bullshit and had opened lines of communications; lines Dean was going to do his damndest to  _ keep _ open and to return the favor.

Because Rowena was right, as much as he hated to admit it.

He wasn’t the only one around here who had pain that needed lancing. And really, could he  _ really _ stay angry at Rowena when what she did had brought about a change Dean had never hoped could happen?

“God yeah, I’m so fucking tired,” Dean agreed more vehemently than he’d intended.

As if his word opened a floodgate, Cas and Sam chimed in with their agreements too, before thanking Rowena – Sam even going so far as to stand up and pull the diminutive woman into a hug she seemed to melt into.

Somehow, when Dean wasn’t looking, Rowena had become a part of their merry little band and was probably, if he wasn’t mistaken, working her way into the family – whether Dean was seeing things between Sam and her or not.

And maybe they should  _ officially  _ give Rowena a room.

He was sure she’d already staked out one of the other empties for herself, but the gesture would mean a lot to a woman who’d had no permanent home for who knew how long.

In that way – as in so many others - she was certainly a Winchester already.

Huh, how had he not noticed that?

Cas tugged on his hand, bringing Dean’s attention back to him. “Are you all right, Dean?”

“Y’know, I think I am,” Dean said with a grin, feeling lighter than he had in  _ years.  _ He wasn’t stupid enough to think he didn’t still have plenty of baggage to go through but in this moment, he was feeling damn good and he was going to snapshot this in his head and pull it out to look at in the rougher moments to come.

It would be a hard ride, and they still had some difficult, nearly insurmountable tasks ahead of them still out there in the world – people they needed to find and get back – but how much easier would that be if some of the burdens on their hearts and minds had been lifted?

When they could think clearly again or, at least, clearer?

Dean had despaired of  _ everything  _ when he’d lost Cas and he’d regained a great deal when Cas had miraculously returned to him. Now that they were finally on the same page for the first time in maybe ever, was there nothing they wouldn’t be able to accomplish?

Hell, they’d stopped multiple apocalypses together. Getting mom and Jack back would be a piece of cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the end!
> 
> i found a lot of this was hard to write because May didn't talk, and i'd have walls and walls of dialogue for a single character. Trying to break that up organically, it was tough, but i think i pulled it off. Let me know what you think :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this! thanks for reading :D
> 
> (P.S. i hope you guys got the Eureka reference, and if you didn't cause you've never seen it, it's a fun show)
> 
> rebloggable [ tumblr post here](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/189800609526/unspoken-words-a-season-13-supernatural-fic)


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